The Friday Poetry Thread

I wish I could be like hugh watt,
lead the school to victory
take my exams and pass the lot

I'm a day late with my prose, I suppose.
It matters not. Not a jot, well not a lot.

If there's any way that this could stay,
and not be moved the Pasoti way,

I would be pleased and very grateful,
which makes a change from being hateful,

Now that I have your attention,
I wonder if I could just mention,

I'm looking for an old friend of mine,
Haven't seen him in such a long time,

So if you could give me a hand,
and help me search throughout the land,

If in a crowd push to the front,
and shout out loud "Have you seen Mike Hunt"

Jock, you're 6 days early
Not one day late
So don't you worry
Not much, any rate.

I'll take a punt on ole Mike Hunt
he's the ho in the middle, the ho in front.
It's been said Mike Hunt tastes of chicken
that opinion comes from a lot of lickin.
Good luck to them if thats their wish
could be worse could be fish.

Winner Winner
Chicken Dinner

Tuna paste,

I recognise that taste.

Greenjock wrote:

Tuna paste,

I recognise that taste.

And it aint Shipmans

We seek him here

We seek him there

We seek him everywhere

We seek a investing owner everywhere.

With Fletch still here one's heart is sunken
Brent is blind or must be drunken
Fans revolt to deafened ears
My dog is gay and got big ears!

Ode to Argyle.

Overhung
Overdrawn
Underwhelmed
Overcome.

Toast is nice and cheese is cool
It's all gone quiet from piggy Newall
I make my spag-bol with a shoe lace.
Quiet to from PL2-faced.

Woke up late but made the bus,
No-one at work appreciates my fuss
Last day of this week, thangfuck its here
Weekend ahoy, I'm on the beer!

Home alone for the weekend,
Tis really quiet with time to spend,
On yamming beer with real friends.

On the beer I hear you all shout
you're just a bunch of drunken louts
get to the match, shout and cheer
fletch is in charge so 3 points no fear
I'm not going but wont be missed
you can probably gather i'm already pissed.

I follow him on Twitter,
He tweets, twit twit tweroo
His self-important chitter
So deluded; can you guess who?

Mock Cuncher wrote:

I follow him on Twitter,
He tweets, twit twit tweroo
His self-important chitter
So deluded; can you guess who?

You should be more specific,
The clues are just too vague
Is he bald as well as deluded?
It must be William Hague!

I am not sure who
Just assume the worst my friend
Never relent; squire

Friday comes but once a week,
So greet it not with sorrow!
For we will be praising Fletch's troops,
After a victory at home park tomorrow.

The strangest of strange days today
With massive highs and lows
But now at least it's nearly gone
I won't bore you with my woes

Trust AGM tomorrow morn
Which should be of great interest
I hope to meet Sir Richard Blight
And put his patience to the test

And last a word for Schlumberger -
Please don't call him piggy
Although we all know who you mean
Some people might read it as Peggy

D- Must try harder

It’s finally Friday—I’m so glad.
It’s been a crazy week.
I got chewed out on Monday,
and since then it’s all been bleak.

I lost my lunch on Tuesday,
and a customer went insane,
which shocked me so completely
that I almost popped a vein.

I poked my eye on Wednesday,
and then the customer who is a nurse gave me a shot.
She sent me to the doctor
when I fainted on the spot.

On Thursday I was tardy
’cause I kinda overslept.
And the snack that I was craving
came up missing in a theft.

And so it’s finally Friday.
No more grass to cut, no more bushes to prune.
No more sitting on the lawnmower,
no more customers’ dirty looks.

By Friday I’m exhausted,
out of energy and breath.
But that’s the day you’ll hear me shout,
“Rejoice, TGIF!”

And once a month on Friday,
I remember why I keep cutting grass:
You see, I am the company owner—
that’s when I get my pay.

If I were stuck on an island with 1000 Aviva,
I'd hope the Lord would give me a meat cleaver
A bloodbath of green, have that you blind believer!
An orgy of death, an erotic fever

Get your prose out,
Get your prose out,
Get your prose out for the numerous fans of Friday Poetry on ATDDDDD!

In this sad world of strife and care
There is one thing that will always be there,
Always bring a flutter to the heart,
Always makes us sing. Where do we start
To tell the joy that those two words carry
To tell the love that those two words marry?
Joy and Love together in one sound
As we approach that hallowed ground.
The roar of the crowd
The passion sung out loud
For Plymouth Argyle - above it all
We shall be forever in its thrall.

This morning I went for a wee
and experienced the opposite of glee
It was so utterly chilly
that my usually big willy
could have comfortably fit in a flea

(apols for the old insect bestiality theme).

Sat in my big armchair,
Tea and toast has warmed my hair,
It's frosty out and quite fair,
I may go and climb some stairs.

Not much time today.

Friday, friday, load of shite,
work all day,
Then work all night.